I never could. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him.
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